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"masker" poems
Hidden by old age awhile In masker's cloak and hood, Each hating what the other loved, Face to face we stood: 'That I have met with such,' said he, 'Bodes me little good.' 'Let others boast their fill,' said I, 'But never dare to boast That such as I had such a man For lover in the past; Say that of living men I hate Such a man the most.' 'A loony'd boast of such a love,' He in his rage declared: But such as he for such as me-- Could we both discard This beggarly habiliment-- Had found a sweeter word.
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10.7k
Meeting
Was dit my sonde om te droom, te wens? Was dit wreed om te verwag dat jy my iewers in jou soet woorde sou vind? Kyk ek dalk na jou met die oorhoofse afwagting van 'n kind? Sal jy met sjarme my kan vermaak of is teaterkuns 'n masker vir jou haat? Ek smag na jou taal, jou moedertong in my uitgehongerde mond. Oh die beeld- wat ons met sulks silwer stem kan skep! *** sal jou brief my vind? Sal daar 'n tuin ontstaan as ek jou antwoord naslaan? Se jy sal bly, net vir my! Se my brandewyn asem het jou inner kind bevry! Se net jy is lief vir my- en ons sal saam die tonnel-oog wereld met soet liefde en dronkmans woorde verlei. Skryf saam met my in hierdie silwertong, en kyk *** die wereld in afwagting verstar. Die liefde wil blom wanneer twee skrywers bymekaarkom. Die wereld raak nat, met die geuiter, van ons silwer tong.
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Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 2:50 PM UTC
Maak liefde in woorde
Gebroke sit ek my hart vol emosies my gesig uitdrukkingloos Di masker groei vas- almal **** ek glimlag maar my hart skree van pyn my siel staan snikkend en my glimlag verlore! ek wonder oor liefde ek wonder oor haat wnt in hierdi eensame wereld gryp ons almal na hoop verwagtend di antwoord le daaragter ek verlang na jo stem ek mis jo oe op my en ek wil nt luister *** j asemhaal wnt sonder jou voel ek leeg! So hier staan ek mt my hart in my hande... hopend jy gee wel 'n bietjie om...*
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Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 3:50 PM UTC
GeMaskerde hart
Verse, a breeze ’mid blossoms straying, Where Hope clung feeding, like a bee— Both were mine! Life went a-maying With Nature, Hope, and Poesy, When I was young! When I was young?—Ah, woeful When! Ah! for the change ‘twixt Now and Then! This breathing house not built with hands, This body that does me grievous wrong, O’er aery cliffs and glittering sands How lightly then it flashed along, Like those trim skiffs, unknown of yore, On winding lakes and rivers wide, That ask no aid of sail or oar, That fear no spite of wind or tide! Nought cared this body for wind or weather When Youth and I lived in’t together. Flowers are lovely; Love is flower-like; Friendship is a sheltering tree; O the joys! that came down shower-like, Of Friendship, Love, and Liberty, Ere I was old! Ere I was old? Ah woeful Ere, Which tells me, Youth’s no longer here! O Youth! for years so many and sweet ’Tis known that Thou and I were one, I’ll think it but a fond conceit— It cannot be that Thou art gone! Thy vesper-bell hath not yet tolled— And thou wert aye a masker bold! What strange disguise hast now put on, To make believe that thou art gone? I see these locks in silvery slips, This drooping gait, this altered size: But Springtide blossoms on thy lips, And tears take sunshine from thine eyes: Life is but Thought: so think I will That Youth and I are housemates still. Dew-drops are the gems of morning, But the tears of mournful eve! Where no hope is, life’s a warning That only serves to make us grieve When we are old: That only serves to make us grieve With oft and tedious taking-leave, Like some poor nigh-related guest That may not rudely be dismist; Yet hath out-stayed his welcome while, And tells the jest without the smile.
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2.9k
Youth And Age
Verse, a breeze ’mid blossoms straying, Where Hope clung feeding, like a bee— Both were mine! Life went a-maying With Nature, Hope, and Poesy, When I was young! When I was young?—Ah, woeful When! Ah! for the change ‘twixt Now and Then! This breathing house not built with hands, This body that does me grievous wrong, O’er aery cliffs and glittering sands How lightly then it flashed along, Like those trim skiffs, unknown of yore, On winding lakes and rivers wide, That ask no aid of sail or oar, That fear no spite of wind or tide! Nought cared this body for wind or weather When Youth and I lived in’t together. Flowers are lovely; Love is flower-like; Friendship is a sheltering tree; O the joys! that came down shower-like, Of Friendship, Love, and Liberty, Ere I was old! Ere I was old? Ah woeful Ere, Which tells me, Youth’s no longer here! O Youth! for years so many and sweet ’Tis known that Thou and I were one, I’ll think it but a fond conceit— It cannot be that Thou art gone! Thy vesper-bell hath not yet tolled— And thou wert aye a masker bold! What strange disguise hast now put on, To make believe that thou art gone? I see these locks in silvery slips, This drooping gait, this altered size: But Springtide blossoms on thy lips, And tears take sunshine from thine eyes: Life is but Thought: so think I will That Youth and I are housemates still. Dew-drops are the gems of morning, But the tears of mournful eve! Where no hope is, life’s a warning That only serves to make us grieve When we are old: That only serves to make us grieve With oft and tedious taking-leave, Like some poor nigh-related guest That may not rudely be dismist; Yet hath out-stayed his welcome while, And tells the jest without the smile.
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Dig silwer linte dans na die maan in wolkpluime wat na die strerre toe maan ek is weer hartseer weer stukkend gebreek daarom nog 'n siggaret toestaan an my mense bestaan ek beaam my met die kwale van 'n ongebonde wereld wat pleit om liefde en genade wat soene soek in suikersoet wat drome droom so swart soos roet wat binne die lyne bly en so ook verlossing by hul neuse in lei want meisies is net slette as hulle saam die verkere perd saal of die slippie laat val na hul vir die aborsies betaal en seuns is net moffies as hul sukkel om 'n rugby bal te vang vergeet van die agsteman wat gretig na die flank se balle verlang vloek en laster bring God se toorn werk an jou eie vokken balk en los my doring dalk is jou masker meer heel as die van my... maar met elke krakie... is ek darem 'n krakie meer vry - as jy
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Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 8:19 PM UTC
Vryheid in die krake
I am both the puppet and the puppet master. I dance to the will of others while subtly controlling them. I sometimes make myself dance, The two halves of me controlling and obedient simultaneously. The shadow that lurks in my shadow— I am that, too, seeping and oozing over the ground. The forces in my heart are battling for control— The shadow and the light are battling. My heart remains the ****** battlefield, Littered with dead dreams and riddled with holes. And all the while the puppet jerks, Obeying the tug of strings, And all the while the puppet masker jerks, Controlling the mass of strings.
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Nov 30, 2013
Nov 30, 2013 at 11:08 PM UTC
Puppet and Puppeteer
Tussen my gesteelde fotos En bekoorde akoorde Verstik ek aan twyfel In my verlies aan woorde Ń Oorverdowende stilte In die kuberruim ,Die koperkoord kletskamers En bakkiesblad boodskappe. Trek op jou neus vir Die new-age kakkerlakke. Tik my vingers stompies Op die gladde skerm Rook in die aande as My gemoedsbekakkings kerm Oor die stilte op die foon... Rukkings deur my lyf My harts onwrikbare toorn Ek **** aan jou Ek droom van jou Ek wens en hoop op jou , maar self met die masker Van moderne tegnologie; **** jy ook *** raas die stilte nou?
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May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 5:37 PM UTC
Oorverdowende stiltes
Dit is verganklik om te **** jou neus is plat onder die, masker, It is ludicrous to view our noses as flat face masks for false fronts.
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Apr 13, 2022
Apr 13, 2022 at 4:53 PM UTC
Pharmacological misdemeanor - Senryu
Vi ses igen du rækker din hånd gennem drømmenes masker Vi ses igen du står i en rude på tiende sal Vi ses igen passerer hinanden på hældende trapper Vi ses igen sover tilfældigt i det samme tog Jeg ser dig igen på den mørke plads månen hælder sølv i dit hår Du ser mig vente for grønt som om jeg vented på nogen Ses igen blikkene standser i mængden Ses igen i en tilsneet have Ses igen i en opbrudt gade
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Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 6:41 PM UTC
vi ses
A house is where I find myself in Any place is great for amazing masker A house is where I fit myself in Anything can work for an adapter Long way from home I have always been No sorrow, no remorse, just emptiness Long days and nights it has always been Not sad or mad, but no happiness Never realized the hole inside of me Been trying to live my days to the fullest Now realized how depressing things be None of the work I did actually worth it Be it I'm done from the rushed life Back home to where I can breathe Walking slower and having long drive Back home to where heart can beat A Farm near Duivendrecht, here I am Standing alone amongst the nature The sight of gigantic, green grassland Where I left behind, before I was mature To the days I forgot to appreciate To the windblows I forgot to soak in To the times I forgot to lie aback laid To the work I did to forget my pacing Now at home where I forgot to miss Now at home where the real heart is
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Aug 11, 2022
Aug 11, 2022 at 11:00 AM UTC
A DAY BACK AT HOME
"such a tiny thread" she said, "the willow barks and masker's head", she clearly doesn't understand the rules "I want the keener finding me, I want the faces fathom-free" though sets her sights on deepest of the fools "I'll spin until you see again, the moon and wind like us, are friends, the tempest shore is what connection fuels" her freedom swings my lack in time "I'm your dove as you're my rhyme" I clearly just don't understand the rules
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Jan 30, 2012
Jan 30, 2012 at 6:22 PM UTC
Soshie Sehd
I'm fighting a war inside my head again, I don't know why it's always life or death inside my brain, There's no gray areas in my gray matter, Only black and white, with zero color, It gets bleak in there, and darker by the day, I'm slowly going more than more insane, I thought I hit my lowest point long ago, But I feel like I'll be there again, before I know, And I try to drop hints, but you seem to leave them in the cold, But I get it, I'm the best masker or so I've been told, So unless I just come right out and tell you my feelings, You'll go on thinking I'm okay, without a hint of how I'm reeling, Off balance on the inside, stumbling around underground, Cause in my head I'll never be out of that basement with it's sounds, I'm just always going to be stuck in my childhood trauma, A head-case without a warning label, just asking for her Mama, But no one can fix this for my inner child, She's stuck in her cage, just in the corner trying to hide, Because someone hurt us too much to ever really be okay, So until the day I die, by my own hand or God's, I'll fake, Fake happiness, fake living, I'm a zombie without a patient zero tag, Just another millennial on too many meds, wishing to be fixed with everything they have, And yeah, I'm like alphabet soup, BPD, PTSD, OCD, Bipolar, alcoholic and addict maybe, and a few other things, Genetics and circumstance ******* me over without asking, And now I'm stuck in my head every day wondering if I'm living, Another day in this forsaken world, or should I just slit my wrists, Find something to overdose on, or maybe just take a risk, Cause sometimes when I feed my impulsive beast, The voices shut up for just a beat, And yeah, that's bitten me before, but not that bad, So I haven't learned my lesson, not quite yet, I just wanna drink myself to forgetting, That I even wrote something so full of feeling, Smoke a J, and not remember all my problems in the morning, Because I'm tired, so tired of remembering, Carpet stains and moans of pleasure, Wash my hands over and over, And maybe one day it'll all be done, But until that day, I'll be on the run, But no one can fix this for my inner child, She's stuck in her cage, just in the corner trying to hide, Because someone hurt us too much to ever really be okay, So until the day I die, by my own hand or God's, I'll fake, Fake happiness, fake living, I'm a zombie without a patient zero tag, Just another millennial on too many meds, wishing to be fixed with everything they have.
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Jun 10, 2019
Jun 10, 2019 at 11:24 PM UTC
Why Keep Fighting?
I'm fighting a war inside my head again, I don't know why it's always life or death inside my brain, There's no gray areas in my gray matter, Only black and white, with zero color, It gets bleak in there, and darker by the day, I'm slowly going more than more insane, I thought I hit my lowest point long ago, But I feel like I'll be there again, before I know, And I try to drop hints, but you seem to leave them in the cold, But I get it, I'm the best masker or so I've been told, So unless I just come right out and tell you my feelings, You'll go on thinking I'm okay, without a hint of how I'm reeling, Off balance on the inside, stumbling around underground, Cause in my head I'll never be out of that basement with it's sounds, I'm just always going to be stuck in my childhood trauma, A head-case without a warning label, just asking for her Mama, But no one can fix this for my inner child, She's stuck in her cage, just in the corner trying to hide, Because someone hurt us too much to ever really be okay, So until the day I die, by my own hand or God's, I'll fake, Fake happiness, fake living, I'm a zombie without a patient zero tag, Just another millennial on too many meds, wishing to be fixed with everything they have, And yeah, I'm like alphabet soup, BPD, PTSD, OCD, Bipolar, alcoholic and addict maybe, and a few other things, Genetics and circumstance ******* me over without asking, And now I'm stuck in my head every day wondering if I'm living, Another day in this forsaken world, or should I just slit my wrists, Find something to overdose on, or maybe just take a risk, Cause sometimes when I feed my impulsive beast, The voices shut up for just a beat, And yeah, that's bitten me before, but not that bad, So I haven't learned my lesson, not quite yet, I just wanna drink myself to forgetting, That I even wrote something so full of feeling, Smoke a J, and not remember all my problems in the morning, Because I'm tired, so tired of remembering, Carpet stains and moans of pleasure, Wash my hands over and over, And maybe one day it'll all be done, But until that day, I'll be on the run, But no one can fix this for my inner child, She's stuck in her cage, just in the corner trying to hide, Because someone hurt us too much to ever really be okay, So until the day I die, by my own hand or God's, I'll fake, Fake happiness, fake living, I'm a zombie without a patient zero tag, Just another millennial on too many meds, wishing to be fixed with everything they have.
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*vluchtende mensen grijpend naar een pilletje medicijnen voor balans, tegen het kwijnen een fles wijn gewoon om, voor de verandering, eens met jezelf te zijn het heil zoekend in een grote groep vrienden even niet bepalen laat anderen de beslissing maken een joint misschien? zelfconfrontatie gaat me raken piekeren ik gok liever voor tien een kameraad vierentwintigzeven om mijn innerlijke stem te ontwaken God zeg me, wie ik ben, waar ik sta stop het nou maar onder het laken ik zelf heb al vaak genoeg geprobeerd het te weten, te weten waar ik ga op de langertermijn nog steeds niet in balans gek he? als we blijven vluchten van onze dans het hoofd bieden aan een eigen kans ver weg in het duister nog wel en dan *** voel jij je weer licht? ben je dan ook werkelijk in evenwicht? of houd je het masker voor om meer te krijgen iets van gehoor met alle prikkels en falen vrijheid en eenzaamheid toppen en dalen laat mij het allemaal lekker zelf bepalen zodat ik kan zeggen dit ben ik zonder die ergens anders te halen arme mensen, voor de verandering kom op de proppen met eigen verhalen*
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Aug 21, 2017
Aug 21, 2017 at 10:34 AM UTC
Stabiele mensheid